


Cyborg Boy

by MiddleKeyFangirl



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt Peter, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, Irondad, Major Character Injury, Other, Parent Tony Stark, Permanent Injury, Prosthetic Peter AU, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2019-11-05 02:54:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17910632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiddleKeyFangirl/pseuds/MiddleKeyFangirl
Summary: (For @spiderstan_'s Prosthetic Peter AU via Instagram)After his encounter with Vulture, Peter's life is drastically changed. His mentor, Tony Stark, wants to help him through it, but it's a challenge he's unprepared to face. Peter tries to be optimistic, but sometimes the pain is too much; even for your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.





	1. Trapped

"I'm sorry Peter," Vulture spoke. Peter laughed.

 

"What are you talking about?" Peter was still actively dodging Vulture's wings, and thought he was doing one hell of a job with it, too. "That thing hasn't even touched me yet!"

 

"True," Vulture said, "then again... wasn't really trying to." Peter looked around, realizing what he meant.

 

The mechanical wings smashed into the pillars surrounding Peter, giving him no way out even with his reflexes. Had he realized moments before, he may have been clear. The building rumbled as the ceiling caved in, sending concrete and most of the air conditioning unit down onto the much smaller boy.

 

With his right hand, Peter reached out, trying to web himself to something in time. He saw the Vulture leap into the air, joined again by his deadly wings. Peter let out one final shout before being toppled to the ground. A large chunk of debris knocked his head, causing him to lose consciousness before he even collided with the cold concrete.

 

* * *

 

 

Peter woke up to the taste of bile and the smell of copper- blood. He coughed and choked, blood spattering onto the debris. His breathing grew erratic and he panicked, unsure of what was happening.

 

It all just happened so quick.

 

"Help," he called out, but it was merely a squeak. He tried to pull his right arm free from the concrete prison that engulfed him, only sending flames up his arm and a scream up his painful throat.

 

His arm was crushed beneath a large piece of rubble, blood seeping through his suit slowly. Peter whined as he tried to pull his legs out, hoping to lift the rock off his definitely shattered arm. 

 

His right leg was free, kicking at the debris and attempting to free the left. Peter shifted his head to see how close he was. The debris had trapped his leg as well, up to the hip. Peter wasn't sure if it was a good thing or not that he couldn't feel it. He moved back to look at his arm, nauseated by the idea of what it looked like under there. His head throbbed and his vision blurred; he wasn't sure how much longer he could stay awake for.

 

"H-help," This time, a slightly louder yelp echoed through the destroyed building, followed by an even louder sob. Peter let his head rest, gravel biting into the bridge of his nose.

 

He wished he had never turned off the baby monitor protocol. He wished he hadn't screwed up so bad on the boat. He wished he had the suit. Because if he had the suit, Tony would've known where he was. Karen would've helped him through it. But all he had was a measly onesie and- his phone. A surge of adrenaline shot through his body, powering his shaking, uninjured arm to reach for his phone. _Call Mr. Stark._

 

He struggled to pull the phone close enough, then struggled to keep it in focus once it was. His heart sunk and another sob escaped his blood tinted lips. The screen was shattered, chunks of the screen completely removed from the phone itself, probably somewhere in his pocket. He dropped the phone and continued to cry hopelessly.

 

He only stopped when the pressure of lying on his stomach made it hard for him to continue without passing out or coughing up more blood. He rolled onto his side to the best of his ability, screaming from the pain in his arm. The debris held him in place, forbidding him to move from his stomach. Instead, he lifted his head, looking for any way out.

 

The only opening he saw was above him, through which the night sky could be seen through a haze of dust. He took a deep breath.

 

"Help!" His last cry came out just loud enough to be heard across the distance of a classroom. _A classroom_ , he thought, _will I ever see one of those again?_ He started giggling, eventually laughing so hard he couldn't breathe again. He recognized it as a symptom of shock.

 

A sudden pulling on his arm cut his laughter, his screaming echoing around the fallen warehouse. Peter inhaled deeply and listened, hearing soft mechanical whirring, and tumbling debris. Someone was here. Did the Vulture have a change of heart? Or did he come back to finish the job?

 

Another pull and Peter was crying again. "Stop!" He cried out, gagging on the smell of fresh blood. The whirring stopped. His head collapsed onto the ground and he groaned in agony. "It hurts."

 

"Pete?"

 

Peter laughed again; must've been shock. There was no way Tony was here, especially with moving day.

 

"You're not... really here," Peter laughed hysterically. "It's the shock! Must be losing... a lot of b-lood."

 

"Pete, listen to me buddy," Tony's voice pleaded, almost a soothing tone to it. "I'm gonna get you out of there. It's going to hurt but you just have to push, okay kid?"

 

"No!"

 

"You're a strong kid. You can handle it."

 

"You have to go after... Vulture. That's more im-portant," Peter sniffed, dust making him hack. "The real Tony Stark knows... it's more 'mp-" He paused, looking curiously at the machinery flying into the opening. They proceeded to place themselves strategically around the area, latching themselves down and providing an easier route of escape.

 

His arm lit up with torment, the large chunk of debris finally getting dragged off his arm. The limb itself was horrid; flaccid and bloody, multiple segments of bone visible through the torn flesh. Peter felt sick. He looked up to see his hero.

 

"You're more important Pete," Tony said, moving on to the other large piece of rubble, removing it nearly effortlessly. Peter heard him gasp. More whirring. Swearing. Distant ambulances.

 

Tony was on his knees over the boy. "Rhodey's got it handled. I needed to come here." His mask clicked off, giving him a better view of the boy's injuries.

 

"Motherfucker," he muttered, looking at the boy's limbs. He gently rolled Peter onto his back. The boy grunted. He struggled to look down at his leg, instantly regretting it once he did. The leg itself was hardly attached, once healthy sinew now contaminated with the settled dust. _So that's why I couldn't feel it._ Tony covered Peter's wide, shining eyes. He ran a hand over the boy's hair, which was covered in dirt. The only thing that seemed to be clean on the kid were the tear tracks carved into grime.

 

"Stay with me kid. The ambulances are on their way."

 

"Mr. Stark," Peter mumbled, mouth dry. "I don't feel so good." He took a few shallow breaths, looking into Tony's eyes before his own rolled back into his head and he passed out. His head lolled to the side. Tony panicked, cradling the boy up into his arms. While he wouldn't want to admit, he was crying the whole way to the warehouse. Now, those tears were coming back.

 

"Friday?"

 

"Heart-rate is quite high, sir. As to be expected with an injury. Medical will be here shortly."

 

Tony sighed, snapping his mask back on. "I'm taking him myself. We don't have time." He placed one arm under Peter's knees, careful to hold the damaged one, and placed the under one around the boy's shoulders.

 

"Sir I believe that he should at least make it until the ambulance arrives. And with his healing factor-"

 

"I'm taking him," his voice quavered. The suit's thrusters engaged slowly, making sure not to jerk Peter. The boy groaned, still completely out. Tony looked at him worried.

 

"Come on Pete," his voice cracked, "Almost there."

 

 

 

 


	2. Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony brings Peter into the hospital, risking revealing his identity. Peter makes a request. Pepper has arrived to help sort things out.

His appearance in front of the hospital startled a few nearby nurses, and the sight of Peter's mangled limbs caused a little boy to cry. One nurse rushed the boy away while another came to Tony's aid.

 

"Mr. Stark? Don't you normally take these cases at Avengers tower?" She asked.

 

"Avengers tower is in the process of being moved. There's nothing in that building right now. Ma'am," he glanced at her name tag, "Kelly, look this kid needs treatment now." Tony's voice was louder than it should've been this late at night (especially outside a hospital) but he was horrified.

 

He snapped his mask off revealing watering eyes and a locked jaw. He marched forth into the hospital.

 

"I need a doctor!" He shouted, Kelly already sprinting to get a gurney. A few nurses and a trauma specialist were already there. It was times like these Tony was glad he had money to his name; when he needed help, he got it.

 

The group rushed to a trauma room before Tony finally relinquished the boy, placing him gently on the gurney. Peter stirred and his eyes fluttered open. He stayed stone still as Kelly placed an oxygen mask over his pale face. Tony stepped out for a moment, let his suit fly off, and returned to the scene.

 

"I need a blood transfusion over here!" Shouted another nurse in the room. A staff member nodded and sprinted away.

 

"Holy- is this Spider-Man?" A young ER technician stood with his jaw dropped, shocked over the boy that he thought was much older. Peter's eyes widened a bit more, and his head moved. He met Tony's eyes with a look of pain; how much worse could this night get?

 

Kelly sighed and looked at the ER technician. "If he is, you still can't say anything. Patient confidentiality; you really want to break HIPAA?" The technician's face turned red.

 

"No ma'am," he said.

 

"Good. Now go get morphine." When the technician left, she turned her attention back to Tony and her patient. She began attaching Peter to the monitors, looking worriedly at his stats when they came up.

 

Peter looked at her. "Miss, if you could..." He coughed blood into the mask.

 

"Pete," Tony spoke soothingly. "Don't talk right now. Close your eyes, kid. Kelly if you could keep the whole Spider-Man thing out of the charts that would be much appreciated." Kelly nodded. Peter's head rolled around a bit, trying to keep himself awake.

 

"No... Aunt May," he muttered, pleading Tony with all the effort he could muster.

 

"Peter," Tony said sternly. "She has to know."

 

"Lie," he coughed, wincing. Tony rubbed the bridge of his nose, unsure of what to do. He ran his other hand over Peter's forehead, which was hot and covered in sweat. Peter stopped squirming under Tony's touch, and let the nurses continue milling about, assessing the damage. He tried his best to breathe, his breath fogging the mask each time he exhaled.

 

"It was a car accident," he winked at Peter, who seemed to go limp at the phrase. It would be believable enough to keep him covered- for now at least. Peter's breath suddenly hitched as a swab was taken of the torn, bleeding flesh of his arm. And again as an IV with morphine was plunged into his uninjured hand, followed by the attachment of the blood bag. He let out a small whimper and he started to breathe faster. Tony stroked Peter's hair in an attempt to calm him down. "He was walking home from his school dance and some kid hit him. Kid's light; he got launched." Peter took a deep breath and relaxed, focusing on Tony.

 

"Did he have a date?" Kelly asked, trying to distract him. _Liz_ , Peter remembered. _Her dad... and I just left her there; alone at the dance._ Peter choked, letting out a few soft cries before coughing yet again.

 

"No," Tony said, knowing full well he did, and knowing even better just how guilty he felt about leaving her there. "He went with his friend. Peter figured it would be more fun that way. Less awkward, y'know?"

 

"Smart kid," Kelly smiled softly.

 

Peter was finally calmed down again. Had the trauma surgeon not burst in right then, it probably would have been fine.

 

"We have to take him now," he said. Peter's head shot up, terrified. His heart-rate visibly increased on the monitors.

 

"Woah, kid calm down." Tony put his hand on the boy's uninjured arm.

 

Peter's breathing picked up and he was about to speak when his eyes rolled back again and he passed out again. Tony looked at the teenager before him and his heart sunk.

 

He took the suit. He didn't listen to the boy enough. He wasn't there for him. He was just like Howard. It made him sick.

 

As they wheeled Peter away, another nurse escorted him to a quiet waiting room. He hardly realized he had been moved at all, nor did he notice an embrace that wrapped around him. One hand seemed to be combing through his hair and the other across his shoulder blades. He recognized the scent, but was too disassociated to place it. His head was pressed against what he would assume was someone's mid section; he was looking directly at their pedicured feet.

 

After hot tears tickled his cheeks, he snapped out of his trance, pulling away from whoever was holding him. He looked up to see his girlfriend's worried face.

 

"Friday called me," Pepper said. She sat down next to Tony. "Rhodes just called in as well. They got the guy."

 

"That's good," Tony sniffed. Pepper wiped a tear away with her thumb.

 

"The kid?"

 

"Surgery. Pep it didn't look good. How could I let this happen?" He was struggling to swallow the lump in his throat, putting his hands in his hands. If he was going to cry at least he could try to hide the fact that he was an incredibly well-known billionaire.

 

"Hey hey hey," Pepper spoke to him as calmly as she could, knowing how serious it must've been if he were crying. "You did exactly what any responsible adult would do. You tried to stop him from doing things that could get him hurt. Not everything works out all the time. It's hard with kids, let alone enhanced ones. It's not your fault, it's not Peter's fault, it's the man that toppled the building's fault. And I'm sure he's got people to blame too, and I'm sure none of them are you."

 

"People are always after me."

 

"Yeah but he wasn't after you. He was after your tech. Probably wanted to make some quick money. If he were after you, you would have encountered him at least once. And he never once dared to stay long enough to get caught by you." Tony looked at her, rubbing at his face to get rid of his tears.

 

Before he could say anything, a nurse had come to speak to them. Her face was dark. Tony thought he was going to be sick.

 

Pepper placed her hand on Tony's shoulder as the nurse began to speak.

 

"The doctor made a decision."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got a few follow requests today on my personal Instagram. I would rather if you want to follow, you follow my fan account (same username) or my tumblr (deathbytumbleweeds). Again, shout out to spiderstan for creating this incredible AU.


	3. Hallucinate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter wakes up after surgery. Tony struggles to grasp the situation. Peter's unstable state doesn't help either.

Fresh linen. The first thing Peter smelled as he struggled to pull himself awake. He kept his eyes closed, rolling his head to the side to press the fabric against his face. The material felt nice against his skin, which was somehow cleaned since the last time he was awake.

 

"Peter?"

 

Peter ignored the voice. _Too tired_. He instead rolled his head in the opposite direction, away from the source of the voice.

 

"Peter," the voice said again, "you awake?" Peter groaned softly. He tried to open his eyes, which proved quite the challenge. It was as if someone had stuffed his eyelids with bags of sand. Eyes half lidded, he looked at the man sitting at his left side.

 

"Dad?" He muttered, voice scratchy. He tried to open his eyes more, but gave up quickly, closing his eyes again. "Hi."

 

"Pete," the voice said again. "It's Tony."

 

"Oh," Peter sighed. "Hi dad."

 

Tony couldn't tell if the kid was that high on the pain medication, or if he was fucking with him. He rubbed his temples, pushing his papers to the side.

 

"What'cha got there, dad?" Peter asked, hearing the rustling of papers being shifted.

 

"Blueprints," he mumbled. _Please don't ask why, kid. I don't want to wake you up to this harsh reality so fast_. Peter nodded, swallowed thickly, and then rolled his head to the side, falling asleep again. Tony looked at the boy sadly. He was not going to be happy when he woke up. Tony quietly collected his papers and tucked them under his arm, going down to the cafeteria to meet May (who was currently with Pepper, who was trying to calm her down to the best of her ability). Tony was still shocked by last night's events.

 

_"He thinks the best option is to amputate," the nurse said. Tony bit the inside of his cheek, the taste of blood filling his mouth; similar to the taste Peter had been dealing with for the past hour._

 

_"What if we don't?" Pepper asked for Tony._

 

_"The rate of infection sky rockets, for one. He'll likely never be able to walk properly, let alone at all. And the damage to the arm is severe. He could improve it with physical therapy, but it would only improve slightly. I'm talking not being able to pick up anything thinner than a pool ball."_

 

_"His aunt, have you got her on the phone?" Tony spoke up._

 

_"Yes," the nurse said. "She wants the amputation. Doesn't want Peter dying from an infection."_

 

_"Then do the amputation," Tony spoke. He knew Peter would likely never be Spider-Man again. But he hoped maybe he could fix this. He didn't want to see the kid any more hurt than he already was. "Excuse me."  
_

 

_Tony walked away, headed towards the exit. He stepped out into the chilly spring air, took a deep breath. He looked up at the sky, saying a silent prayer; something he hadn't done since he was a child and his mother prayed with him._

 

_"Tony," Pepper called, her high heels clacking on the pavement as she approached him. "Tony. Come on." She put a hand on his shoulder, looking into his eyes. Even her eyes were watering, and she hadn't even met the kid. Only heard of the way Tony talked about him and saw the glimmer in his eye when he shared the story of Peter fighting side by side with him in Germany._

 

_"I can't," Tony covered his mouth, squeezing his eyes shut. Maybe it was just a nightmare. Maybe he'd wake up soon. "I need-"_

 

_"You need sleep," Pepper hushed. "We can go home. He'll be out of surgery early morning. You can get at least an hour."_

 

_"I want to be there when he wakes up."_

 

_Pepper nodded. "We can do that."_

 

_"I'm staying, Pep. I need to find a solution." He turned to walk back in, Pepper grabbing his arm._

 

_"I'm sure whatever you're thinking is not a good solution right now. Sleep on it," she pleaded._

 

_"You're right. You know what I'm thinking?  Extremis serum."_

 

_Pepper flinched. "Absolutely not. That stuff is dangerous. And combine that with the kid's weird biochemistry... who knows what would happen. Not to mention it's incredibly painful." She looked at him worriedly, remembering the horrors that Killian forced upon her._

 

_"I'm not going home, Pep. I can't."_

 

_She sighed. "I know."_

 

_She walked him back into the building, and they sat down in the waiting room again, this time with Tony's knee bouncing up and down as he tried to think of a way to help Peter._

 

_"Prosthesis could work... I could make them high tech. But I'm not sure I could make him stick," he muttered to himself. Pepper pulled his head down to her shoulder._

 

_"Sleep," she ordered calmly. "If anything happens, I'll wake you."_

 

_"Maybe use a sample from his uninjured hand?"_

 

_"Tony."_

 

Tony shook his head, trying to focus on the moment. He sat down next to Pepper and across the small cafeteria table from May.

 

"How is he?" May asked. She hadn't gone in yet. Needed to get herself together.

 

"He called me dad," Tony shrugged, placing his papers down. "I've got some ideas. Took some measurements of Peter while he was asleep. Have a shape picked out for the arm. Leg's a bit tricky-"

 

"Tony, you don't have to do this for him," May said.

 

"May," he sighed. "You've got one hell of a kid. And I'll be damned if I don't help him."

 

"I just... I've never known the Tony Stark to take interest in one kid over I'm sure... twenty other things he could be doing. The whole Cap issue?" May took a sip of her coffee. "How much is this going to cost?"

 

"Me? Few million. You? A few days without Peter while I try to work these contraptions out."

 

May smiled softly, before wiping away a tear. She started to cry a bit, before tears were rapidly streaming down her face.

 

"How could I let this happen?" May sobbed. Tony was asking himself the same thing. "He probably tried to call me to come get him and I missed it." He _did_ try to call Tony and I ignored it for too long.

 

"Excuse me again," Tony said, getting up and walking towards the bathroom.

 

And that was the first (and hopefully the last) time Tony Stark cried in a public bathroom.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lesly if you're reading this; I love you.


	4. Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter struggles to come to terms with his new life.

Tony returned to Peter's room to find the boy looking at the ceiling, tears streaming down his face. The blankets were thrown about, hanging on the edge of the bed and wrapped around his right leg. His chest moved irregularly as he hiccuped and sniffed. His spider-sense told him someone was at the door, but he pretended there was no one. He figured it was another nurse who would try to get him to eat. But he wasn't hungry.

 

The boy was a sad sight; tears on his face, blood on his bandaging, and remaining hand clenching so tight onto the bed rail, bending it with ease. His hospital gown was far too large, hanging off his tremendously bony body.

 

Peter wouldn't look at Tony, who had knocked lightly on the door and sat by his side. He put his elbows on the bed in the space where Peter's left leg ought to be.

 

He reached out, grabbing the sheets tangled around the boy. He slowly sorted it out, straightening the blanket and pulling it off the floor before putting it back over Peter. He still didn't move his eyes off the ceiling.

 

"Aunt May's in the cafeteria," Tony said, knowing full well Peter wouldn't acknowledge he was listening. "Wants to calm down before she comes in here so she doesn't freak you out."

 

Peter shifted uncomfortably, rolling onto his side. The moment he tried to turn away from Tony he winced, remembering his arm there. Or, lack of arm, in this case.

 

"Hey, don't put your weight on that," Tony spoke softly.

 

Peter rested on his back again, closing his eyes to avoid looking at his mentor.  Tony sat back and looked at the boy. He wasn't going to force the kid to say anything, but he would wait as long as it took for the kid to speak.

 

The silence that enveloped the room was only broken by the noise outside. Codes being called. Nurses' shoes squeaking on the tile. Carts rolling down the hallway.

 

"Y'know if you don't eat they'll tube you." Still no response. Verbally, at least. Physically, Peter rolled his head to the side. Tony tilted his head, looking at the back of the boy's head.

 

"I don't know how you're felling right now, Pete, but I want to help. I want to apologize. It was my fault. I shouldn't have taken you for granted... shouldn't have taken the suit. I was just scared. You've got these crazy abilities you hardly understand yet. Stronger than Captain America. I don't think he could've handled that elevator in DC. You can climb buildings. Walk on walls, hang from ceilings. All without the suit. But you're just a kid, even with all that. You don't deserve to go through something like this so young."

 

Tony rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I'll leave if that's what you really want."

 

As he stood up, he heard Peter move. He was looking at Tony's feet now, his lips quivering.

 

"I don't want to do this anymore," Peter muttered, sniffling. Tony sat in the open space at the end of the bed.

 

"Pete," Tony frowned.

 

"I don't want to be the Spider-Man. Not when I can't even lay on my side. Not when I can hardly walk. I love being Spider-Man. And now I've lost that. I just... I lost so much last night. More than just my arm and leg." Peter sat up, pushing his back against the inclined bed. He bent his right leg up to his chest, pressing his face into his knobby knee. "I just wish I could go back to school on Monday. As a normal kid. With all of my limbs and no powers."

 

"Kid, I'm sorry," Tony said.

 

"It's not your fault Mr. Stark," Peter shook his head. "It's mine. I should've listened."

 

"And what would've happened once those weapons hit the streets? Hundreds of people could've died. It's my fault. I should've listened to you."

 

"I don't want to be Spider-Man anymore." The bed rail snapped.

 

Peter's face was red with anger. As the color faded, he began to cry.

 

"I hate this," he choked, "Why couldn't I have just... died?"

 

Tony's face went pale. "You don't mean that."

 

"I don't know! Maybe I do," he nearly shouted. The monitor to his left showed his heart rate was increasing.

 

"What about Aunt May?"

 

"I cause her more trouble than I'm worth."

 

"And me?"

 

Peter laughed bitterly. "You don't really care about me. Just my abilities." Tony was taken aback.

 

"Peter-"

 

"Maybe you should go."

 

Tony marched to the door, making sure no one was in the hallway before he closed it. He went back to Peter and pulled out his sketches.

 

"I designed these for you, Pete," Tony said, on the verge of tears. "For  _you_. Not for Spider-Man. If you want to use them as Spider-Man, that's your call. But these are for Peter Benjamin Parker."

 

Peter took the papers and looked through them. They were extremely detailed. Tony had really thought of everything. He had measurements written down, and possible materials listed on the back in messy handwriting. The chicken scratch and the bags under Tony's eyes told him that Tony had spent the previous night working on these with little to no sleep.

 

The arm was elaborate. Panels that could easily be removed to access the wiring. A hidden compartment that Peter could store stuff in. There was something written on the side. Peter squinted as he tried to read it. _Able to feel textures, heat._ Peter wasn't sure if Tony could really pull that off.

 

The leg was beyond Peter's wildest dreams. The design itself would snake up and attach at Peter's hip, which would likely require another small surgery to put anchors in, but so would the arm. It had panels similar to the arm, and two compartments. There was also a small emergency call button hidden under a sliding piece of metal. He wished he had had that last night. But Peter's favorite was the section of heel that could come off and be replaced with a small wheel.

 

"I don't know if you like to skate," Tony said. "But I put a little wheel in there so you could. I've planned a matching shoe with the same wheel as well. It's on the next page. Figured it be a fun touch."

 

Peter looked up at Tony.

 

"You don't have to be Spider-Man, Peter."

 

"So what? You give me the leg and the arm and then what. Do I lose the 'internship'?" He made little air quotes, nervous about the answer Tony would give.

 

"Hell no," Tony said. "You're a smart kid. You're going places. I can help. It's the least I can do."

 

Peter put the papers in a neat pile.

 

"Do you know how long these will take?" He asked.

 

"I have to put them together still. And I'll need a mold of where they'll be attached. So I'd say at least three days... at most we're probably talking five days."

 

"That's it? Don't you have to order materials and you know... actually get some sleep?"

 

"Kid. I'm Tony freakin' Stark."

 

There was a knock on the door, Tony opened it as Peter panicked and wiped his face clean of tears.

 

Aunt May walked in quickly, covering her mouth when she saw Peter.

 

"Oh my- Peter!"

 

"I'm okay Aunt May," Peter patted her back as she hugged him. "Really."

 

"None of that humble stuff," May shook her head. "How are you, really?"

 

Peter shrugged. "Tired. Very sore. Kind of guilty I left Liz at the dance and now her dad's getting arrested. And Ned has no idea where I am."

 

Aunt May smiled softly, her eyes still filled with worry.

 

"Did I miss anything while I was out?" Peter asked, trying to lighten the mood.

 

"You called me dad," Tony snorted. Peter's face turned red.

 

"Anesthetics are one hell of a drug," May said. "Do you even remember?"

 

Peter shook his head. "I just remember passing out when they told me I was being rushed to surgery. And then waking up to a nurse changing my IV. She kept asking me if I wanted food."

 

"He denied hospital food," Tony smirked. "Smart kid. It's bland."

 

"Oh!" Peter gasped, handing May the papers in his hands. "Mr. Stark designed these prosthetic limbs." 

 

Aunt May smiled. "I've seen them." She turned to look at him. "And I'm very grateful."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I said I wouldn't be updating much and here I am... updating everyday.


	5. Pretend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter's exhausted by trying to keep up his act.

Peter was ready to sleep. While it was only two in the afternoon, every time someone came into the room it felt as if his energy were being drained. And while it was usually just nurses, each visitor left him worse than the last.

 

He didn't want their pity. Didn't want Aunt May crying over him. Didn't want Tony going on and on about the prosthetic designs, telling Peter he wouldn't be sleeping until they were done. Didn't want a guilty Happy apologizing and saying how bad he felt. It was  _his_ fault, no matter how many times they told him it wasn't.

 

Honestly, the only visitor that hadn't completely exhausted him was Pepper; whom he hadn't met until her first visit. She seemed very polite and laid-back. Saying she was glad he let Tony build the prosthesis for him, and promising to make sure he slept and ate at least once a day. She told him he was a strong kid and that she hoped her kids were that tough.

 

"If Tony ever chills out enough to have kids," she added, chuckling. Peter smiled softly. Tony definitely needed her in his life. Peter was grateful she was able to stick with him all that time (even if they had gone through some breaks).

 

By the time Aunt May decided Peter would be okay on his own for the rest of the day, Peter was sure he could finally get some rest. He grunted as he pulled the sheets up around his shoulders and closed his eyes, his head lolling to the side and ready to rest. 

 

A knock at the door told Peter that someone was there.  _Great_. He didn't recognize the knock; it was different from the knocks each nurse used, so it had to have been another exhausting visitor. He lifted his head and plastered on a fake smile, tugging the sheet back down to his chest. He wished he could say he was happy to see his best friend stood in the doorway, but he was filled with dread. Especially when he saw that Ned was holding several games, including  _Battleship_ ,  _Uno_ , and  _Scrabble_.

 

"Hey Ned," he greeted. Another head stuck out behind the boy's back; Michelle."You- how did- what?"  _Fantastic_.

  

Michelle shrugged. "I had nothing better to do. Visiting people in the hospital is a social norm, as far as I've heard."

 

The room filled with silence.

 

"N-no actually I was already here when Ned came in. My mom works the main desk and sometimes I come here to sketch," Michelle explained. "There's a lot of different expression in the hospital."

 

She clung to her notebook as she bit her lip, looking to Ned for help.

 

"We brought games," Ned said awkwardly. "If you're feeling up to that sort of thing."  _Wonderful_.

 

"Of course," Peter lied, struggling to sit up. Michelle winced, barely noticeably, but different from her usual behavior. She tried not to look at the heavy bandaging, glancing instead at Ned, who had sat in the chair Tony had pulled up to the bed. Michelle hesitated by the door before Peter shrugged and motioned towards the foot of his bed with his remaining arm.

 

"How are you feeling?" Ned asked. Peter sighed.

 

"Sore," he mumbled, squirming to sit upright. Ned nodded. Peter looked up at Michelle, who met his eyes and looked away.

 

"Battleship?" She spoke, playing it off.

 

"Sure," Peter said. Ned set up the game on the small table that reached across Peter's bed.

 

"You can play Ned first," Michelle said, about to get up.

 

"No it's okay," Peter spoke. "I'll play both of you. You're already there, so... Ned? It's cool if I play Michelle first?" Ned nodded.

 

"You don't have to call me Michelle," her cheeks turned slightly red, "MJ is fine."

 

"Oh," Peter squirmed. "Okay. You'll go first, then?" She nodded and rested her chin on her knuckles, looking at the setup in front of her.

 

"A5."

 

"Miss. B3?"

 

"Miss."

 

"Hey by the way," Peter said, turning to Ned, "how's Liz?" MJ's eyes flicked up to Peter before darting back to her board.

 

"Well her dad got arrested last night," Ned frowned. "So not great."

 

"Oh," Peter's heart sank. "I wish I could talk to her but she's probably really mad at me. There's no way in hell she'll want to talk to me. Anyways. Your turn, MJ." 

 

"C3," MJ muttered.

 

"Miss. A4."

 

"Miss. D3."

 

"Hit," Peter sighed, picking up his first peg. MJ smiled softly, picking up a red peg as well.

 

"I'm going to head to the bathroom. Need anything?" Ned spoke up.

 

"No," Peter said.

 

"Not even like, jello or something?" Ned offered.

 

"I'm not really hungry."

 

"Oh okay. Well I'll be back in a minute," Ned shot two finger guns before standing up and leaving the room.

 

He sighed and looked at his board. "D2?" She shook her head and placed a white peg.

 

"We don't have to play if you don't want to," MJ said.

 

"N-no it's fine," he faked a smile.

 

"Peter," MJ sighed, looking into his eyes and then looking away quickly, her eyes glued to her hands which were fidgeting in her lap. "You don't have to keep up the act. Ned won't be surprised."

 

 _Shit._ Peter panicked.  _She knew?_

 

"You were in a crazy accident," she continued, her toes moving around a bit. "No one's expecting you to be anything right now, Peter. It's so weird. You're just so strong. I hate that."

 

"What?" He was still unsure of what she was trying to say. 

 

She shook her head. "Nothing. Never mind. Do you want me to clean up?" Peter bit his lip and nodded. She sighed, putting the pieces back in the box. 

 

"I have to be okay," Peter blurted. MJ glanced at him.

 

"Said who?"

 

"Said me."

 

"Yeah well any sane person would have given up and passed out by now."  _I wish_.

 

He sighed and reached over the table to help her put some of the pegs away.

 

"No," she said, gently pushing his hand away and taking the pieces from him. "You don't need to help. Please, just for yourself, rest. Cry. Do something. Blocking out whatever is going on in your head won't help."

 

"How do you know?"

 

She flinched and paused, quickly going back to picking up the game. 

 

"Doesn't matter," she murmured. Peter tilted his head questioningly at her, but decided to drop it. She was clearly uncomfortable. 

 

She closed the box and reached over to place it on the other games Ned had brought.

 

"I'm sorry," MJ sighed, "I told him not to bring anything, that you'd be tired. He didn't listen."

 

"That's Ned," Peter laughed softly, coughing dryly. MJ looked nervous at that, so he tried to stifle it.

 

"Sorry," he said, reaching for his water. 

 

"You didn't do anything wrong." MJ raised an eyebrow. Peter looked at her over the lip of his cup, trying to avoid conversation as best he could. He was no longer drinking the water, his throat calm but his stomach uneasy from the medication. Pretending to be drinking water was quite difficult, as it proved, but it seemed he was passing it off.

 

She looked away from him again and checked the time, completely unsure of what she should do.

 

"Should we leave? So you can rest?" She asked. Peter put his cup down and shrugged.

 

"Ned wants to be here-"

 

"I didn't ask what Ned wanted, Peter," she interrupted. Peter was taken aback.

 

"Why are you being nice? It's not like you," Peter blurted. She looked right into his eyes, holding her stare.

 

"Why does it matter? Answer my question."

 

Peter considered his options. "I don't want to be rude," he sighed. "But I want to sleep."

 

"Then we can leave," MJ said. "I'll catch Ned on the way out."

 

"If he wants to say goodbye that's alright," Peter offered.

 

"Are you feeling up to that or would you rather be sleeping the second I walk out of this room?"

 

Peter nodded, his head falling back on the pillow in relief. "I'll see him at some point." MJ gave him a thumbs-up before picking up the games to leave.

 

"Oh," she said, "One more thing. Stop pretending. It's better for everyone, especially you, if you're honest."

 

"Okay." He closed his eyes. "But can you tell Ned that the doctors came to talk to me and it was best you left?"

 

MJ giggled. "Sure."

 

Not two minutes after they left, Peter was finally asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took a while. I didn't start writing it for a few days and then when I was ready to write it was a battle against my eyes, the clock (I get tired at like 8 at night which is not efficient because that's about when I write) and the amount of melatonin I took.


	6. Phantom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter continues to try to heal, which proves not only difficult, but incredibly painful and tiring.

Searing pain. That was the first thing Peter felt when he woke up. He shot up in bed, yelping at the sudden presence of pain. He squeezed his eyes shut as he tried to relax, tightening his grip on the soft sheets around him. It was remarkably quiet, practically roping Peter back to sleep.  _Wait_.

 

His eyes opened again, looking quickly around the room. No wonder it was so quiet.

 

Peter was no longer in the sterile hospital room, but instead a softer, less abrasive room he didn't quite recognize. The walls were painted grey instead of the blinding, almost-too-white white, only disturbed by the floor to ceiling windows to his right and a few abstract paintings here and there. The door to his left was still heavy and wooden, but this one didn't have a window. Directly in front of him, mounted to the wall, was a flat-screen TV playing a muted version of  _Jeopardy_. Perhaps his favorite thing about the room was that there was no sound; no visitors, no nurses, no intercoms. It was so much nicer.

 

But no matter how pretty the room was, Peter's wounds were on fire, crying to be soothed. His eyes watered a little bit and he let out a small whine, trying to shift his weight comfortably.

 

He looked around for a call button, not finding anything (except for the television remote by his hip). He groaned and looked down at the damaged appendage. 

 

"Motherfuck-" he breathed, startled by what he saw. He seemed to have been in surgery since the last time he was awake. The end of the arm was plated with a light colored metal, which seemed to be permanently attached. A few round pieces protruded from the plating, which Peter assumed was so a prosthetic could be attached. Pushing back the cotton cover, he found the same contraptions buried in his leg. There was no bandaging on them, and the amputation site was healed, but the skin around the metal was red and angry. "How long was I out?"

 

"It's only been a day," said a voice from the doorway. In walked Tony Stark, the bags under his eyes looking heavier than they had been the last time Peter saw him. He balanced against the wall, looking at the TV and then back to Peter. "Jeopardy, huh? I never really watch these types of shows."

 

"How did-"

 

"I have a friend," Tony interrupted. "Has some pretty cool medical technology. Wanted to get you into prosthetics and back into school as soon as possible because I know you miss it. So I called her up and she brought her fancy equipment, healed up where they did the surgery, and then we operated again to install the anchors."

 

Peter shook his head, trying to take in Tony's incoherent sentences. "How did I not wake up?"

 

Tony shrugged. "Well we did the surgery at the hospital. Just transfered you here after it was done. You were already asleep and I told the doctors I didn't want them to wake you, so they just gave you the anesthesia. Your metabolism got rid of it hours ago, though. Almost immediately after surgery. Must've been really tired."  _You have no idea_.

 

"How long is this pain going to last," Peter mumbled. "Or is it going to hurt even more once the prosthetics go on?"

 

Tony sat on the foot of Peter's bed and yawned, the circles under his eyes even darker up close. "You ever gotten a piercing?"

 

"No."

 

"Good because this is nothing like that," he coughed. He pointed to the metal on the boy's arm. "Those are connected to your nerves, essentially. To make the arm feel as real as possible. And I'm not going to lie, it's not a fun process."

 

Peter sighed and closed his eyes. 

 

"The pain should go away soon. I'll get them to bring you some pain meds in the meantime, though."

 

"No," Peter spoke up. "Aren't you busy? Don't you have like, meetings or something?"

 

"I canceled them," he waved his hand, "no big deal. I'm Tony Stark." Peter nodded and muttered a quiet 'thank you' before closing his eyes again. Even though he had just woken up, there wasn't much for him to do besides sleep. No visitors seemed to want to come see him at the moment. He figured Tony had to have had a hand in keeping people away (even May, who Peter did not have enough energy to face). He started to worry that Tony was seeing through his tough guy ruse.  _It's my own fault for asking about the pain. And crying_ , he thought. 

 

Tony turned to watch the show, leaving Peter to rest.

 

He was just about to fall asleep, too, when a searing pain erupted in his arm. He winced and bit his tongue, trying not to scare Tony away. After a few minutes, he realized the pain wasn't coming from his arm; it was coming from where his arm used to be. He swear he could feel his shattered and mangled arm all over again. Thought he could feel the blood seeping from the open wounds, the warm liquid flowing down his arm and hand and onto the bed sheets. His stomach churned and he bit his lip to stop from screaming.

 

_There's nothing there_ , he told himself, taking shallow and erratic breaths.

 

Tony turned to the kid. "You okay?"

 

Peter nodded. "Just a little sore."  _Sure, we'll go with that_ , he thought, the pain intensifying.

 

He was terrified; how was his arm hurting if it wasn't even there? He continued to hold back his tears and squeeze his eyes shut, but all that did was remind him of the night he lost, sending pain down his non-existent leg. He groaned, grasping at the appendage. His hands touched the cool metal and his nerves hissed, only increasing the pain. He choked for a moment before crying out in pain. Tears leaked through his closed eyes, and a loud whimper escaped his lips. Tony's head shot to look at Peter.

 

"Kid?"

 

"Hurts." Peter's head arched back, sending tears down the sides of his face. "But there's nothing there."

 

Tony sighed and pulled the blanket aside. "FRIDAY call a nurse to bring something for Peter."

 

"Yes sir. Nurse Penny has been paged."

 

Peter opened his eyes, revealing the terror in them to Tony. Tony knew the kid was going to have something like this; he had been doing his research. "Listen, Pete. You gotta focus on something else. Now I'm going to put some ice on the anchors, which you will feel. Just tell me if it's too much."

 

Tony carefully pulled a pillow under the leg, Peter's breath hitching at the sensitive nerves being activated. Tony kept apologizing, reaching back to the small bedside table where a bin of ice sat. He grabbed it and set it down beside him. "I have to go get something. What are we thinking, Pete?"

 

Peter sniffled and shrugged, closing his eyes tight.

 

"That's not what I want to hear. Come on kid," Tony's voice came from the bathroom connected to the room. "Think about that girl you like, what was her name?"

 

Peter let out a sob, remembering how he ruined Liz's night. Tony grimaced, quickly sitting back down on the bed. He began wrapping the ice cubes in a hand towel embroidered with the Avengers emblem, carefully applying it to the metal. Peter wailed, the foreign feeling of new, stimulated nerves both unpleasant and agonizing.

 

"What are you planning for your sweet sixteen," Tony offered, still trying to calm the boy. The nurse jogged into the room, quickly administering the pain medicine through the boy's IV before being shooed out by Tony. "It's coming up, isn't it?"

 

Peter tried to listen to what Tony was saying. "Y-eah," he breathed, "in August. It's months away from now, though."

 

"Got to start planning early," Tony said, closely monitoring the kid's breathing, which was still unpredictable and worrisome.

 

"May d-doesn't need that kind of stress," Peter reasoned, biting down much to hard on his lip. He could already taste blood, but all he wanted was to be calm. And whatever helped, helped.

 

"It's a party," Tony frowned, wrapping more ice cubes in a new towel. "Hold on."

 

Peter's eyes were clenched so tight, and he tried to suppress a scream. It wasn't as bad as the leg, but it was still terrible. 

 

"Kid you're going to completely mutilate your lip. Open your mouth for a second," Tony frowned as Peter opened his mouth. Tony put an ice cube in his mouth, startling Peter and causing him to almost swallow it. "Try not to break your teeth, but this should be better."

 

Peter tried to calm his breathing, focusing on the feeling of the ice on his body.  _The ice is where it ends. There is nothing after that._ His soothing mantras mixed with the cold sensation seemed to be helping. His energy crashed as he let out a long breath and let his head fall to the side. 

 

"Thanks, Mr. Stark," he whispered.

 

"Anytime kid. FRIDAY, keep me updated, please," Tony smiled. He patted the boy's remaining leg before exiting the room and closing the door quietly. 

 

"Hey FRIDAY?" Peter asked once Tony was gone.

 

"Yes Peter?" The voice responded.

 

"When's the last time Mr. Stark slept?"

 

"Unless he's slept outside of the compound, not since the morning before the accident."

 

"Two days?" He sighed. "Can you tell Ms. Potts to make sure he sleeps? And that I said he's not doing anything else for me until he does something for himself."

 

"Okay."

 

Peter was incredibly bored. As all he could do for fun was either watch TV or sleep. And to be quite honest, he didn't feel like doing anything.

 

School never looked more promising.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The new Endgame posters had me lying on the kitchen floor screaming about Valkyrie and then all my dead babies.


	7. Note

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter receives a terrifying card that's anything but a 'get well soon.'

The pain medication had hit Peter like a truck, pretty much knocking him out for a few hours. When he came to, he had forgotten where he was, or why he was there. He felt extraordinarily tired, even though he had just woken up. The morphine must have still been in his system. His healing factor should eliminate the extra still roaming around his system, hopefully waking him up in turn.

 

He wanted to get out of bed, just to stretch. But he wasn't sure he could manage that without falling over. So instead, he sat up and raised his arm above his head and yawned, taking the stress off his back. He swung his leg out to the side of the bed and reached his toes to the ground, his skin prickling at the sensation of the cold floor.

 

"Good morning Peter," FRIDAY said, startling the boy. "Shall I call a nurse?"

 

"No thank you, FRIDAY," Peter smiled softly.

 

"I'll inform Mr. Stark you're awake."

 

"No that's not necessary. I'm sure he's busy-"

 

"He's on his way right now."

 

Peter sighed and climbed back into bed, wincing at the feeling of the anchors picking up his surroundings. It wasn't that it hurt, it just felt uncomfortable. Like when raw skin brushes gently over a blanket.

 

He noticed the small table of cards off to the side, blushing even though there was nobody there. He glanced at the colorful cards, baskets and trinkets and smiled, noting to ask Tony to get him some thank you cards to write. There were quite a few.

 

Ned had gifted a bizarre little toy that laughed when you squeezed it. It was shaped like a pill, making it all the more absurd. But it did make Peter laugh, and he supposed that was the point.

 

Aunt May had bought a small teddy bear adorned with bandages and slings, holding a heart that read "feel better soon". While it almost seemed embarrassing, Peter loved it, holding the soft stuffed animal to his cheek and smiling ever so slightly.

 

MJ had written him a small card, to which she attached a Spider-Man keychain. Then note was vague and suspicious, and gave him a funny feeling in his chest.

 

_Peter;_

 

_Sorry. Though you are struggling now, just know that we still think you're super. I hope that soon you'll get back to missing decathlon to do what I know you love again._

 

_MJ_

 

He could feel his lips twitching into a smile. He wasn't sure if that meant she knew he was Spider-Man, but he trusted that MJ wouldn't be one to talk if she did know.

 

There was a white envelope to the side of the small table, on which his name was scrawled in ugly lettering. Just looking at it the letter felt sinister. He wished his spider-sense could tell him if it was one he should open or not, but unfortunately that's not how his powers worked.

 

Taking the letter under his arm, and a chocolate covered strawberry in his hand (thanks Pepper), he settled back against the elevated mattress. He bit off the end of the strawberry and tossed the stem to the side, picking up the letter with his slightly strawberry-stained hands. He tore off the top of the envelope, gently removing the letter.

 

The letter itself was written in terrible red-colored pen on a thin piece of loose leaf paper. There were small holes where whoever wrote the letter must've pressed too hard with their pen. Nonetheless, he read through the letter carefully, trying to grasp and store as much information as he could.

 

Unfortunately, there was nothing very 'calming' in the letter. It almost seemed to have a strong, violent tone.

 

_Mr. Parker._

 

_Word gets around fast. This one being that you are alive._

 

_It's a good thing you didn't come after me. Or maybe it isn't. If you came after such a terrible injury, let's just say I probably would have killed you out of pity. You probably would have asked for me to kill you._

 

Peter's throat tightened as he bit the inside of his cheek.

 

"Sorry, Peter, but something came up. Tony will not be able to drop in for a while," FRIDAY announced, startling Peter.

 

"That's okay," his voice croaked. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, wondering if reading the rest of the letter would be a good idea. But he read it anyways.

 

_My little girl was hurt you left her behind. And she was even more hurt by the fact that you were the one that got her daddy locked up._

 

_I'm joking, of course. I didn't tell her your identity. Mostly because I've hardly spoke to her since they threw me in here. There's not much to think about here, so I spend most of my time thinking, as I'm sure you do right now with your mangled limbs._

 

_The only difference is, that while you think about girls and getting back to being Spider-Man, I'm thinking about the perfect murder. How I would carry it out. And boy, do I have a plan. I'll spare you the gorey details, but suffice it to say once my fifteen years are up, I'm coming straight for you, Peter Parker._

 

_Tony Stark can't save you now. No matter how many upgrades he makes on that damn suit of armor, it won't be enough to keep you out of my claws._

 

_You can't run from me,_

 

_Adrian Toomes_

 

Peter placed the letter on the table and tried not to panic. It was then that Tony dropped in for a surprise. Peter tried to stay strong and not cry as he looked at the man.

 

"Hey kiddo," he said, walking into the room. He pointed at one of the strawberries and raised an eyebrow. Peter nodded, watching him scan the strawberries for the smallest one so he didn't eat the good ones. Those were for Peter. He then motioned to the letter clutched in Peter's hand. "What's that? Who's it from?"

 

Peter swallowed the lump in his throat.  _Tell him_.  _He can help._

 

"It's a note from the girl I like," he lied.

 

"Oh yeah," Tony nodded. "What was her name, MJ?"

 

Peter nearly giggled at that one, but the letter held him back. "No," he said. "Her name's Liz." Tony nodded.

 

"I just assumed you liked that girl that came to visit the other day. She seemed... nice."

 

"What?"

 

"She was very polite," Tony continued. "Really cared about you, too, as far as I can tell." Peter's cheeks turned pink. Tony smirked.

 

"I'm just messing with you," he smiled, rufling the boy's hair. "Can I read it?"

 

Peter laughed uncomfortably. "I- uh... it's just that it's... personal." His face drained of its color.

 

Tony seemed to know something was up. He frowned and sat on the edge of the bed.

 

"Hey, hey, what's the matter?" 

 

Peter scolded himself as he handed the slightly crumpled note to him. Tony took the note from him gently, looking into Peter's eyes with his own, sad, puppy eyes.

 

"Kid, whatever is going on I can help."

 

"But you don't have to help. You have more important things to do."

 

He waved his hand. "Those are small things. My main priority right now is you. We gotta get you walking soon." He offered a smile as he began to read the letter.

 

Peter watched as Tony's face slowly drifted into a frown and his eyebrows furrowed. He put his hand under his chin, thinking as he read the note. Thinking about what he could do to avenge Peter. Wondering if he could take it to court. Thinking about how the two would pull off a case when Peter's injuries would give them away brought even more aspects to the situation. Tony sighed and scratched his beard.

 

"So what are we going to do?"

 

"Well as a man who has received many death threats," Tony began, crossing his legs as if he were going to be there a while, "you have a few options. First, you could ki-"

 

"I'm not killing anyone. Even if I was still Spider-Man, I don't kill people." Peter looked out the window, avoiding eye contact.

 

"Ok well we can also fight to keep him in jail. I can transfer him to The Raft."

 

Peter shrugged. "I don't really care what happens."

 

Tony patted the boy's leg sympathetically. "Well I for one, do. FRIDAY?"

 

"Yes, sir?" The robotic assistant responded.

 

"Can you call The Raft? Tell them Tony Stark has a person in custody that needs to be transfered."

 

"Okay Mr. Stark." 

 

Tony smiled and  stood off the bed. He rubbed Peter's shoulder before kneeling down on the floor. He reached under the bed, trying to grab something.

 

"i know what will make you feel better," he smiled. He procured a long box from under the bed.

 

"What?"

 

"These."

 

Peter fell silent, admiring the beautiful prosthetic limbs Tony had created.

 

"Thank you Mr. Stark," Peter smiled, his cheeks reddening, He touched the cool metal and sighed, hoping maybe, just maybe, things would be okay for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is getting harder to write. I know where I want it to go I'm just having a hard time getting it there. Thanks for reading, though!
> 
> Also, in this AU Peter never saved Vulture so Vulture still hates him. RIP baby boy.
> 
> Bro I literally have no excuse as to why this took so long but I'm taking better care of myself and am trying to even things out. Not sure if this will mean I'll have more time or less time to write, but I'm hoping I'll start to feel better and will be more willing to write.


	8. Caution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter begins to test out his new limbs with the help of Tony and Rhodey.

"Come on Pete," Tony was waiting patiently for the boy to try to figure out his new limbs and configurations.

 

"I'm trying," Peter huffed. He focused as hard as he could on the plastic water bottle. His prosthetic hand was just inches away from touching it, palm carefully moving towards it. Once he felt the bottle, he concentrated on his fingers. He was able to get his first few cold metal fingers wrapped around the water bottle, just below the soggy, peeling label. After getting a feel for using his new arm, he grasped the water bottle carefully and pulled it off the table. He smiled triumphantly.

 

"Nice work, kid." Tony patted the kid on the back. Peter broke his concentration to laugh softly and look up at Tony.

 

"Can we try the leg now?" He asked. Tony nodded. Peter's smile broadened even more, until the water bottle in his hand exploded, sending water onto his clothes, the arm and the floor of the common area. Luckily, the arm was waterproof, otherwise Peter would've received quite an unpleasant shock.

 

"Ok so maybe we shouldn't try the leg," Tony sighed, adjusting his glasses. "I don't want you putting a hole through my floor."

 

"Please, Mr. Stark," Peter pleaded. "I really want to go back to school." His puppy eyes were already in play, wide and shiny, staring sadly into Tony's soul. He already had the leg on anyways, and he wasn't ready to be popped back into the wheelchair and pushed back to his room when he could walk up there himself. If he could figure it out, that is.

 

Tony sighed. "Fine." Peter smiled and was about to stand up as Tony stopped him. "Woah, woah, easy there. We're using the bars first to get you comfortable." Peter groaned and sunk back down into the couch cushions. 

 

Tony held out his hands to Peter, who took them eagerly. As he was sitting on the edge of the couch, he was able to swivel fairly easily to face Tony. He stood shakily, most of his weight pushing on his real leg, carefully figuring out how to not break Tony's floor. Once he was balanced, he beamed at Tony, who smiled softly back.

 

He then took his first step. He laughed.

 

"I can feel the floor! This is amazing! Mr. Stark I can feel it through the prosthetic!" He said excitedly. Tony smiled at him. He took another few steps before almost losing his balance. He squirmed and nearly fell, only for Tony to catch the remarkably light boy by the shoulders.

 

"Woah kiddo you gotta eat more," Tony whistled. "Most of your weight is just the prostheses."

 

Peter offered an awkward smile, trying to keep his focus on the task at hand. He took a shaky step, more than excited to grab the bars. He held on tightly with his real hand, and rested the robotic arm on top of the bars gently, afraid to bend it. Leaning onto his flesh leg, he carefully figured out how the leg was articulated, analyzing it carefully from every different angle. Seemed easy enough. Or so he thought.

 

He managed to take one step before almost falling, only his real knee keeping him from landing flat on the ground. He grunted and winced, trying to get off the floor. Tony went to help him but Peter shook his head.

 

"I need to figure it out on my own," he insisted, pulling himself back up. Tony nodded, still looking uneasy.

 

" _Mr. Stark?_ " FRIDAY called. 

 

"Hmm?" Tony responded.

 

" _Mr. Ross is on the phone about the prisoner transfer._ " Peter felt a pang in his chest. He felt his face whiten. He had almost forgotten about the Vulture. The only exception being in his nightmares. Or the moments after he woke up from them sweating and gagging on tears. During the day it seemed like he was able to suppress the horrid memories.

 

Tony looked over at the boy, who gave him a fake thumbs up, trying to mask his discomfort with everything going on around him. "FRIDAY can we get Rhodey down here? I think he'd be good to help Peter."

 

" _Okay sir,_ " FRIDAY answered, going silent again. Tony clapped his hands together and clicked his tongue.

 

"I'll be right back kid," he waved as he left the room, "please don't break anything." Peter almost laughed at that. Instead he merely smiled and nodded, watching Tony leave the room quietly.

 

He turned his attention back to the bars, gripping his real hand tighter around the cool metal. He wobbled and tried to keep his balance, thinking about the best possible way to figure out how the damn leg actually worked.

 

He took a step and smiled, feeling a bit more optimistic. He shifted his weight again, wobbling nervously. Another shakey step. The mechanical whirr of the limbs was virtually silent, but it was all Peter could hear. He could hardly focus on the task at hand. 

 

Three more steps later and he was holding on for dear life at the end of the bar. His legs shook beneath him as he tried to keep them from giving out. He whimpered, barely audibly, not sure how to turn around to return to the other side of the bars.

 

To make matters worse, his breathing hitched, and his brain soared at three thousand miles per hour. But there was a pretty main theme in the flashing, taunting him and laughing at him in pain, struggling.

 

"Hey Bambi, how's your new leg?" Rhodey called, entering the room. Peter jerked suddenly. For some reason he was so focused on everything in his head, he didn't hear Rhodey coming. His metallic knee buckled and he crashed to the floor, his knee hitting the tiled floor painfully. He winced, reaching up to grab the bars, pulling himself up.

 

"Not good," he muttered, turning around to face Rhodey. Rhodey leaned against the wall, the small lights on his leg braces reflecting off of the floor. Peter avoided Rhodey's gaze, looking instead at the ground as he tried to move a few steps forward.

 

"Well the arm's looking good," Rhodey said. "Used it to climb back up just fine." Peter looked up at him. He hadn't even noticed. Rhodey chuckled, approaching the bars.

 

"When I was first learning how to work my legs," he started, "I would always put weight on each leg and just keep shifting it. Kind of like a warm up." Peter shifted his weight onto the prosthetic leg, feeling the similarities between that and his real leg. "Don't rush anything. You have time. Don't get all mad at yourself for something you can't control."

 

"I can't," Peter sighed. "I need to go back to school. I need to just be a normal kid. I want that. I want to go back home. I want to pretend that this," he motioned to his leg, "happened because of some bizzare accident and not because I was trying to fight crime." He continued feeling the prosthetic in comparison to his real leg. "That's all I want."

 

Rhodey crossed his arms. "I know, kid. But you can't rush into it. You'll hurt yourself. And don't even get me started on what it would do to Tony." Peter tilted his head.  _So Tony really does care._

 

"I figured this arm out, apparently," Peter sighed, managing to raise the arm for emphasis (which surprised him), "I'm ready to figure this thing out. It's the one thing holding me back."

 

Rhodey felt terrible. He knew that the kid would recover from his physical injuries fast, but he remembered his own exhausting recovery.

 

"I hate to be so negative..." he started, sighing and holding himself up on the wall. "But you're nowhere near full charge. Maybe you'll learn to walk and run and even be Spider-Man again... but you have some damage up here," he tapped his temple, "that won't go away. You think you're fine, but there will be a time where you know something up in there has changed."

 

"I don't understand," Peter said.

 

Rhodey sighed. "A little while after I fell I went to an amusement park with some friends. I used to love those drop-tower things... loved the thrill. But after the first drop I couldn't breathe and I could feel my heart in my mouth. It just felt like the plummet I took. You understand what I'm saying now?"

 

Peter shrugged. "I guess. But I still really just need to learn how to walk." Rhodey chuckled and shook his head.

 

"You're a little brat," he joked.

 

"Can't help it, I guess."

 

Rhodey smiled thoughtfully at the boy. "You sound just like Tony, kid."


	9. Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter returns to school and attempts to hide his injuries.

_Fuck._ That was all Peter could think as he approached the doors to his high school.  _Fuck._  

 

He managed to figure out how to walk on flat ground, and up ramps, which was good enough for him. He figured stairs could wait; there were elevators for a reason. So now, here he was, in front of his school, gym exclusion form and doctor's notes in hand, nearly forgetting how to use the leg again.

 

He had pretty much figured the arm out; even managed to pull his sleeve down past his hand, balling up the extra fabric in the hand. He had his leg covered too; jeans and tall socks. He didn't want word to get out, and really didn't want Flash to hear anything about it. Ignoring that small voice in his head that told him  _no, turn around right now and go home_ , Peter trekked through the front doors, instantly met with the sounds of chattering teenagers and loud swearing. He took a turn to the office, looking over his shoulder before he began to talk to the secretary.

 

"I have forms," he said awkwardly. The woman took the collection of papers and skimmed them over briefly.

 

"Good to have you back, Mr. Parker," she smiled as she looked up at him. He attempted to return the smile, but probably ended up with some obscure facial expression. He left the room empty handed, nervously making the short journey from the office to the elevators. He could hear his arm moving as it swayed, and the mechanisms of his leg whirring away as he walked across the hallway.

 

He pressed the elevator button with his flesh hand and stood in front of the doors, waiting patiently. When the doors opened, Mr. Harrington appeared, his face painted with surprise when he saw Peter.

 

"Parker! Welcome back!" He held the door open for Peter. "Heard you had a close run in with appendicitis. When I was your age mine burst, but they managed to fix me up. Physically, at least." Peter was pretty uncomfortable, but he was happy to know Tony had given a fairly reasonable and believable lie.

 

"Not fun," he laughed awkwardly. "Weren't you supposed to get off at the first floor, Mr. Harrington?"

 

The teacher's face darkened. "Damn it. Have a better day than I am, Peter." Peter waved as he exited the elevator and headed towards his homeroom. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.

 

"Peter," a voice called. He snapped his head in the direction of the noise.  _Fuck_. It was Liz.

 

"Liz- look I'm sorry-"

 

"You ditched me," she spat, hurt in her eyes.

 

"I was sick," he lied, looking at her tiredly.

 

"You could've at least told me you weren't feeling well." She sighed and adjusted her bag on her shoulder. "I mean I guess I can't blame you. That's not what really ruined my night. My dad..."

 

"I know," he blurted, too quickly. She shot him a blank stare, not mad, not upset, just absent.

 

"We're leaving. This week. Just wanted to get to say goodbye to everyone. Including you," she looked at the ground, before meeting his eyes. "So goodbye."

 

"Bye."

 

She looked deeply into his eyes one last time, almost as if she wanted something from him, before heading down the hallway. Peter sighed, entering his homeroom. Ned was smiling and waving, which was an instant mood boost. And MJ was...  _smiling_. It was a small smile, but it still made him feel warm, and all the more excited to be back.

 

He moved carefully towards the empty seat in front of Ned, and diagonal from MJ. He turned back to face them, a very thin smile on his face.

 

"Dude can we see the arm?" Ned whispered. Peter frowned.

 

"I- I- I mean I'm not really comfortable with that," he mumbled. Ned's smile disappeared. 

 

"Oh," he said. Peter made a face as if to say 'I'm sorry' before turning to MJ. Their eyes met and he forgot what he was going to say. She smirked and looked away, averting her eyes to the board in the front. Peter sighed and swiveled his body to face the front.

 

A familiar hand tapped him on the shoulder. 

 

"Hey," Ned asked, barely audible. If it wasn't for his powers, he wouldn't have heard him at all. "So just to be clear, they all think you had appendicitis?"

 

Peter nodded. He raised an eyebrow and turned to his friend. "How did you get that story so fast? We just got here."

 

Ned rolled his eyes playfully and smiled. "I know... Mr. Stark told us the plan and-"

 

"'Us'?" Peter asked.

 

"Me, you ass," MJ said, not looking away from the board.

 

"Oh- uh, sorry, MJ," Peter stuttered. He looked at her, trying to read her. It was like he was reading latin. He could see small things, like the way she tapped her pencil in an act of boredom, or the neat manner in which she placed all of her items made it seem like she was prepared and ready to go. But he couldn't make sense of the rest of it. The way her eyes would flicker to him occasionally, or the playful smirk on her face had no known meaning to him.

 

Her eyes jumped quickly to him (just long enough for her to wave a hand as if to say 'it's fine') before returning to their fixed point. Peter thought she looked elegant, even doing mundane things, she had a strong, graceful air.

 

The bell rang, and everyone stood up. Peter carefully pushed himself up from his seat when a gentle hand tapped him on the shoulder. He turned around expecting Ned, only to be met with MJ.

 

"Hey?" He said. 

 

She bit her lip, not meeting his eyes at first. "Hi. Um... I just wanted to let you know that if you want to talk, I'll listen."

 

Peter raised an eyebrow. "Why are you being nice?"

 

She glared at him. "Will you let me be nice for one fucking minute. Gosh." There was the MJ he knew. "I'm serious, it's not like I have anything better to do. And isn't that what friends are supposed to do?"

 

Peter offered a small smile. "Sure, MJ."

 

She smiled back. "And I know you want to, Peter, but you don't have to hide them."

 

"I don't want people to know. Especially not Flash," he muttered.

 

"I understand" she nodded, walking backwards to the door. "I'm glad you're feeling better."

 

"I'm not," he mumbled, too quiet to be heard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi I'm MiddleKeyFangirl, I'm sixteen, and I never fucking learned how to manage my time.

**Author's Note:**

> This is only the first chapter. Hopefully I'll have another by the end of the week, but it depends on how well I'm able to get my life in order. Anyways, please leave feedback, this is my first story on this site and it's vastly different to work with.


End file.
